Chapter 2

“Did you enjoy your stay?” the young, sprightly clerk asked me in an almost musical voice as I checked out. She was a thin wisp of a girl who looked to be around Eric’s age, her bright purple hair bundled up in a bun atop her head, ringlets dangling down playfully on either side of a small face and delicate features that complimented her reedy, almost frail figure. She reminded me of a pixie without the wings, a notion reinforced by the bright, cheerful clothing she was sporting. I read her nametag - Aveline. An odd name, but fitting, I supposed.

“Um, yeah, it was good,” I said, handing over the card keys.

“Uh oh,” she chirped, “I’d know that tone anywhere, that’s the sound of a woman with man troubles, am I right?”

“You could say that. There’s this guy that I’m into, but I’m not sure if he’s into me or not,” I replied, shocked at myself, for I’m not the type to go around blabbing personal details to complete strangers. But I couldn’t explain it, there was something about this girl that made me want to open up to her, and I couldn’t help myself. Not only that, but my budding romantic feelings were driving me crazy, and it felt good to share with someone. And it’s not like this Aveline had to know I had the hots for my own son, right? “Besides, I don’t even know if we could make it work.”

“Ah, married?” she asked.

“No,” I replied, wondering why I couldn’t stop talking about this. “It’s just ... complicated.”

“Oh? Ohhhhh,” she said, face lighting up with realization as if she’d just peered into my head and glimpsed the truth. “Yeah, I know all about complicated,” she continued with a knowing grin. “It’s sad how this world can take a simple and beautiful thing like love and make it into a problem. But don’t worry, I find that such things usually work themselves out marvelously in the end. With a little help, of course,” she added with a wink.

“Um, thanks,” I mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

“So where are you and your son headed?” she asked as she worked with the computer.

I frowned. How did she know about Eric, and that he was my son? The clerk that was here when we checked in last night must have told her, I surmised. “Towards the capital,” I replied, not seeing the harm in telling her, “He’s starting culinary school there in the spring.”

“Ohhhh, a budding chef, huh? Good thing you’re a personal trainer, otherwise you might get fat from all that good food he must make!” I should have been bothered by her knowing that rather precise detail as well, but I figured she just made a reasonable assumption based on the excellent shape I was in. After all, it wasn’t like my outfit was hiding much. Besides, it was nice to have a woman to talk to about what was going on, even if she seemed a bit flaky.

“But just a head’s up,” she continued, not looking up from the computer, “There’s some sort of emergency construction or some such on the interstate in that direction, so it’s gonna be slow-going. Not to mention that there’s a big bundle of snow heading our way. Personally I find it quite enchanting, but from what I hear it’s quite a hassle to drive in.”

“Damn,” I muttered, now knowing where the sudden clouds had come from. This wasn’t good, remembering how Eric had called the landlord of the apartment to let him know we’d be arriving early, how the old man hadn’t been happy about the change in schedule, but had agreed to tomorrow afternoon.

But now with this situation with the interstate and snow moving in, I was no longer sure we’d be able to make it, and chances are Eric would lose his prime apartment. No way, there was no way I was going to let him down again, I resolved. “I don’t suppose you know of any detours around here that wouldn’t take us too much out of the way, would you?” I asked, hoping she could save me searching through options on my phone.

Aveline beamed. “As a matter of fact, I do. Just turn left out of our driveway and head down the road for a while, until you reach the turnoff for old Highway 10, and keep going along there until you reach a town called Coventry. It’s where I’m from, actually. Anyway, just shoot through there and keep going for until you reach the next turnoff for the interstate. That way, you’ll avoid the congestion and you two will get to where you need to be.”

“Thank you,” I said, so relieved that I took out some money and offered it to her for the help, but she just waved it away.

“No need for that,” she said. “If you want to repay me, just promise you’ll keep your eyes peeled – you never know when the perfect moment to act on your feelings will come along. But when it does, be ready to seize it with both hands!”

What an odd girl, I thought as I headed toward the car. What the hell was she even talking about, and why was I even listening to someone half my age? Perfect moment? Even if such a thing occurred, how would I even know it? And how would Eric respond? I wondered, as I opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat, Eric ready to go in the passenger seat.

But I put all thoughts of romancing my son out of my head for the moment as I buckled my seatbelt, focusing on beating the approaching storm. I explained the situation to Eric, before punching up my GPS app on my phone to find this Coventry place Aveline had mentioned. Unfortunately, the app couldn’t find any place with that name anywhere in our vicinity. Weather must be interfering with the signal, I concluded, eyeing the heavy cloud cover. Oh well, I thought with a sigh as I started the car, it would have been nice to have a backup, but the eccentric clerk’s directions were straightforward enough.

After grabbing a fast-food breakfast I quickly found the way onto the old highway Aveline had said would take me through Coventry and back to the interstate. The way she’d talked I’d expected to come across it relatively soon, but before I knew it an hour had passed, then two with no sign of the place, just the open country and scattered farms standard in this part of the country. I tried my phone again, only to be met with the unending circle of frustration when the app tried to load.

At last, we came to a gas station, stopping quickly for snacks and bathroom breaks. I asked the attendant about Coventry, but he just scratched his head and said he’d never heard of it. Great, I’d thought, we must still be a long way off from it. For a moment I deliberated just turning around and heading back the way we came and find another route, but in the end rejecting it. Turning around would mean backtracking, since even though this road was much longer than I’d anticipated, we were still heading in the general direction we needed to go. So, gritting my teeth and cursing purple-haired motel clerks under my breath, we got back in the car and pushed on ahead.

To get my mind off my irritation with Aveline I once again attempted communication with Eric, even retreating into safe, nonsexual topics just to reopen the lines that had gone silent since we’d started out. But apparently, he was still feeling awkward about the ‘revealing’ incident earlier and I was met with a solid wall of bland, generic replies as he sank into the world of an old Nintendo 3DS he’d brought along.

But it wasn’t all gloom, for more than once out of the corner of my eye I caught him casting surreptitious glances at me and my tight-fitting attire when he thought I wasn’t looking. There was interest there, I was almost sure of it, but I was beginning to wonder if I’d have time to exploit it before I said goodbye to him in a few days, asking myself now, in light of what I was now feeling, if I’d be even able to let him go.

I was still ruminating on this some time later when I came across what I was looking for. It was an old faded sign which said Coventry – Next Left Turn. Aveline hadn’t said anything about having to turn. But then again, she hadn’t mentioned a lot of things, I reminded myself. Besides, that was the general direction the interstate was in, if my sense of direction was right, thinking things were finally looking up.

The way things had been going lately, I should’ve known better than to tempt fate.

It was about ten minutes later, when I was entering what I assumed were the outskirts of the community of Coventry, a picturesque, wooded area with sloping hills, although I had yet to see any sign of human habitation yet. That’s when I heard what no motorist in unfamiliar territory wants to hear – sputtering and other unpleasant noises under the hood that gradually increased in intensity, indicating something was seriously wrong.

“No, no no, shit!” I cursed as I angled the car off the road as with one final pop it died. I tried restarting it, but there was nothing, and I slapped my hands against the steering wheel in frustration.

Eric looked up from his game. “What’s going on, mom?” he asked, with all the perceptiveness of someone who’d been soaking their brain in video games for the past several hours. “Something wrong with the car?”

“Yes, sweetie,” I sighed, brushing aside a wavy strand of hair as I reached for my phone. “I don’t suppose you took an auto repair class that I didn’t know about, by any chance?”

“I wish I had now,” he said, grimacing as he watched the tendrils of smoke rising from the front of the car.

“Well, I guess I’m gonna have to call for help,” I said, reaching for my phone in its holder, praying the signal was at least strong enough to let me make a call. But before I could take hold of it, the voice on my GPS app blurted out ‘You have reached your destination. Goodbye!’ and then the screen went dark.

“What the hell are you talking about, you idiot? I shouted at my phone. “You never even let me put in a destination!” I tried to get back to the home screen, only to find that it was completely dead. How was that possible, since I’d still had over seventy percent on my battery five minutes ago? “How’s your phone?” I asked Eric.

He pulled his out his phone, only to be met with a blank screen as well. “I don’t get it,” Eric said, frowning as he lowered it. “I charged it last night, and I haven’t even used it much today. And didn’t you have the car inspected a few weeks ago?”

“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to hold back my irritation. “By Frank, who I’ve been going to for years and is, as you know, a reliable mechanic, who gave it a clean bill of health,” I said, still trying in vain to reboot my dead phone. “I guess it’s just one of those random things.” Like this goddamned phone flipping out on me.

“It’s not going to mess up our appointment with the landlord tomorrow, is it?” he asked, “We can still get there, right?”

“Relax, sweetie,” I said, putting aside the lost cause that was my phone and giving him my most reassuring smile. “We’ll get there, one way or another.”

Fucking fantastic, I thought, what are the fucking odds of the car and both our phones dying at the same time? I swallowed, trying not to panic in front of my son, which was damned difficult considering we were surrounded by nothing but empty countryside, with no sign of human habitation anywhere, and a massive winter storm heading in our direction and night starting to set in. I’d felt so smug taking this shortcut to get around that blockage on the interstate, but now it seemed about as brilliant as shoving a gun in my back pocket with the safety off.

“So, what now?” he asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Why don’t you tell me? I wanted to snap. After all, it’s your fault we’re even out here. No, that’s wrong, I corrected myself, we’re here because of me screwing up Christmas. So I took a deep breath and reformulated my response. “I guess we’ll just have to turn on the emergency blinkers and wait for someone to come by and give us a hand.”

From the way he looked at me I could tell he had about as much faith in that plan as I did. “But who know how long that’ll take, since we’re out here in the middle of ... of ... where are we, anyway?”

“The outskirts of some small community called Coventry,” I said. But where the actual town was located was anyone’s guess.

Eric was quiet a moment as he looked out the windshield. “The town center can’t be too far from here. Maybe I should try to walk there, or at least to the nearest house.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” I said, grabbing his arm protectively. He may be eighteen now and technically a man, but to me he was still my baby boy. My only baby, I thought ruefully, briefly recalling the heartwrenching anguish both Nate and I had experienced when the doctor had told us that I couldn’t have any more children after my difficult pregnancy and delivery, our dreams of a large family dashed. “Tell you what, I’ll make a deal with you – if no one’s come by in the next half hour, we’ll both bundle up and try to find help. Agreed?”

“Alright,” he said reluctantly, settling back in his seat, again turning away from me to stare out the door window. I know he didn’t like it, but there was no way I was sending him out there alone. Not that I relished being left by myself on the side of the road, either.

“So sweetie,” I said, trying to take both our minds off our predicament, “you never really told me why you decided to start school in the spring, instead of waiting for fall like you’d planned.”

“Hey, what’s that?” Eric asked, pointing outside his window. At first, I thought it was just a way to deflect my inquiry, but as I looked I thought I could see a pinprick of light through the skeletal trees that lined the road. My heart leapt, and I knew what sailors on a dark, storm-tossed sea must have felt to see the flare from a lighthouse – hope!

“There must be someone living out here, after all,” I said, grabbing my coat from the backseat, reasoning it must be the light from someone’s house that they’d just switched on against the coming darkness. “Come on, let’s go check it out.” I know, walking up to a stranger’s house in the middle of nowhere is how a lot of horror movies start, but with no car, no phone, and a bitterly frigid night settling in, I was feeling desperate. And surely, even the coldest curmudgeon wouldn’t dream of doing any harm to a stranded mother with her child, especially during the holiday season. Right?

So we bundled up and set out through the trees in silence, the only sound our boots crunching in the snow, a thin layer of which covered the countryside around here. Soon we cleared the tree line, stepping out into a large open area, in the center of which sat a large Victorian-style house perched on a small hill, and even in the encroaching dark I admired its steep roof and wrap-around porch. Light glowed from several of the ornate bay windows, revealing evergreen wreaths adorned with bright red bows fixed in the center of the glass.

Despite our serious situation I couldn’t help but smile, for it was the exact image of the dream house I’d always envisioned for myself, having laid awake at night with Nate many times when I’d been pregnant with Eric, dreaming of one day getting a house just like this and filling it with all our children. But life had taken that dream, and many others, and shredded them to pieces.

Eric and I paused, looking at each other. “Looks promising,” I said, trying to sound encouraging, reasoning that someone with such a nice house and holiday decorations couldn’t be all bad. Eric only grunted in response to my admittingly dubious assessment but offered no protest as we continued on uphill toward the structure.

Then, when we were about halfway up the slope to the house, we were taken by surprise when the building and the trees around it, including two stately cedars in front, were suddenly ablaze with the glow of thousands of tiny white Christmas lights, so dazzling I had to cover my eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the brilliant illumination now assaulting them as I continued toward the steps, more buoyed than ever than someone with this much Christmas spirit would be willing to help us, maybe even let us stay the night.

We made our way onto the porch and to the front door, painted a deep red and ringed with fresh sprigs of holly and a massive wreath hanging from the center, with a mat in front saying ‘Welcome to the Holiday Hideaway House’. How cute, I thought, ringing the doorbell, which played the opening tune of ‘Jingle Bells’, I noted with delight, now eager to meet the obviously fun, festive owners of the home.

And so we waited. And waited, and waited, but no one came to the door. I rang the doorbell again and another few minutes passed, but as before there was no reply. I knocked. “Hello?” I called out as loud as I could without being rude, but again no reply. Well, screw politeness, I thought, my manners worn down by frustration and the cold as I banged on the door, yelling as loud as I could. “Can anyone hear me in there? Our car broke down, and we need some help. Hello?”

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Eric muttered, looking around. “I don’t see any cars.”

“Let’s check around back,” I said, refusing to be daunted. Our search revealed a back door that again no one answered, but no cars and no apparent garage where they might be kept. So naturally, my optimism began to wilt as we made our way back around the house and back up on to the porch.

“So, what now?” Eric asked, starting to shudder in the cold, hands jammed in his pockets. “Do we head back to the car?”

I didn’t answer as I eyed the colorful front door, or rather, the doorknob attached to it, a desperate hunch coming to me. I reached out and twisted it, and to my complete and utter surprise it gave way and the door creaked open. Amazed that my gambit had worked, I stepped inside.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Eric hissed, looking around as if he expected the owner to be coming up right behind us. “You can’t do that, that’s breaking and entering!”

“Well, technically it’s just entering, since I didn’t really break anything,” I pointed out, enjoying the rush of warm air I felt flowing over me. “Wow, it feels so good in here.”

“It’s still trespassing,” he said, still sounding nervous, not budging from his spot on the porch. “And the school might rethink their scholarship if I get arrested before I even get started.”

I wheeled back to him, my ‘trust me’ grin on my face. “Come on, look at this house – whoever lives here must be a kind and generous soul, who would no doubt offer shelter to stranded motorists if they were home. Let’s just step in and warm up a minute, while I try to find a phone or computer or something that I can use to call for help. If the owner returns, I’ll just explain what happened and even offer them a little money in exchange for the trouble, although I doubt they’d take it. And on the off chance they’re unreasonable and call the cops or something, do you really think they’d arrest us given the circumstances?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” he conceded, stamping off his boots and stepping inside behind me. “I suppose it won’t hurt to warm up a little.”

“That’s the spirit!” I said, quickly closing the door behind him. I turned around, removing my mittens and rubbing my freezing hands together as I took in our surroundings. We were standing in a small hallway lit by old-fashioned lamps set into the walls, which were lined with a rich green wallpaper inlaid with golden pinecone patterns, the floors polished hardwood. There were two closed doors, one a few paces up to our right and one directly ahead beyond that. But what drew my eye sat to the left – a grand, intricately carved staircase leading up to the second floor, its polished bannisters wreathed in bright green pine garlands and golden ribbons and sparkling with strands of tiny white lights.

“What’s this?” Eric asked as we hung up our coats on a nearby rack, pointing to a small table nearby on which rested a small envelope. I picked it up, reading the names written in a fancy cursive script on the back. “To Megyn and Eric Cunningham, please read before proceeding. What the hell?” I said, crinkling my brow.

“What? You mean that letter was left here for us? How is that possible? I mean, we didn’t even know we would be here,” Eric asked, suddenly looking anxious again.

“Has to be a coincidence,” I assured him, although we both knew that the odds of whoever living here expecting company with the exact same names as us on this very night were beyond astronomical, right up there with winning the lottery. Five times in a row.

“Are you going to read it?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Well, our names are on it, so it’s not like we’re invading anyone’s privacy,” I reasoned, opening the envelope and talking out the letter inside, unfolding and reading it aloud:

“Dear Mrs., or should I now say Ms. Cunningham and her handsome son Eric,

Greetings, and welcome to the Coventry Hideaway House!”

“What the...?” Eric interjected, “this person not only knows our names and that we’d be here, but knows our relationship, and that you’re widowed? This is beyond weird.”

I couldn’t disagree, my own uneasiness growing as I continued to read:

Welcome to Coventry, which is, as you’ll soon discover, where fabulous things can and do happen with much greater frequency than elsewhere. Such marvels usually proceed just fine on their own, but sometimes a helping hand is needed to keep things running smoothly, or just to get the ball rolling, as in your case. That’s where I come in.

You don’t know how much I wish I could be here personally to help you on your journey of discovery, but as you can imagine I have a lot of demands placed on me this time of year. Speaking of which, I understand that your Christmas wasn’t as great as you hoped. Therefore, allow me to offer you a do-over like the one you’d planned on, right here in Coventry’s Hideaway House, which I guarantee will provide you both with a unique and wonderful experience that will change your lives.

And since the family that usually lives here is travelling at the moment, the house and everything in it is yours for the evening, which naturally includes all food, supplies, any other special touches you might require. So relax, enjoy yourselves, and open yourselves to the possibilities offered by this magical time of year. Christmas may be over, but its spirit still lingers, and will guide you both to what you truly desire.

Warmest Regards,

The Guardian of Coventry

I looked up at my son, whose face mirrored the dread that was squirming around in my stomach. How did they know that Eric and I had talked about a Christmas do-over, something we’d only discussed in the privacy of the motel room? Whoever this ‘guardian’, as they called themselves was, it was glaringly obvious that they were missing a few eggs in their carton, speaking as if they somehow knew Eric and I would be stranded, almost as if they’d planned for it to happen, that we’d be forced to stay here for god knows what twisted purpose. “We need to get out of here, now,” I said flatly.

We practically ran back to the car in our anxiousness to get away from that house, that place that seemed to have been laid out for us like a trap for mice. I half expected the door to be locked, or for someone to pop out with a gun and force us back in, but none of that happened, and soon we were back among the trees that lined the property, making our way back to our vehicle as fast as we could, made more difficult by the fact that snow had arrived and had brought a bitch of a wind with it.

But we refused to let it deter us, both of us willing to take our chances in a broken and chilled car on the side of the road rather than back there in that warm but unsettling house.

That is, if we’d still had a car in which to take our chances, for when we got back to the road there was no trace of it. I knew it was the right place, still seeing the tracks in the wet ground where I’d veered it off the road, quickly being covered over with snow. Where the car had been a thin tree branch had been jammed into the ground, holding another envelope wedged between two twigs, again with a note inside, which I read aloud:

P.S. – I took the liberty of transporting your car to a garage for repairs; I will deliver it back to you in the morning. In the meantime, why don’t you get back inside the house and enjoy the evening? It’s dreadfully cold out here.

Wishing You The Best Yuletide Ever,

The Guardian of Coventry

“What the fuck?” Eric exclaimed. “Has this freak been watching us, waiting for us to go in the house before swooping in and swiping our car?”

If that was the case, I deliberated, studying the scene, then shouldn’t there be impressions from the tow truck, other footprints? But I saw no sign any traffic besides us had been on this road recently, let alone a wrecker, and the only footprints I saw belonged to Eric and I. “I don’t know, but I think we better get back to the house.”

He looked at me as if I’d grown a third eye in my forehead. “Are you nuts? No way I’m going back in there to play whatever sick game this psycho has in store for us! I say we strike out and try to find another house, ask them for help.”

“But where is the next nearest house?” I asked, waving my hand around. “It could be several miles from here, and the way this storm’s getting we won’t make it far before we freeze,” I said. And as if to emphasize my point the wind suddenly quickened, the snowfall intensifying to the point I could barely see him in front of me. “Look, I know it’s a terrible option,” I called out over the wind, “but at least in the house we’ll be warm and able to think clearly, better able to face whatever’s coming. Out here, we’re just sitting ducks. Frozen sitting ducks.”

I could tell Eric didn’t like it, but even he couldn’t argue with my reasoning as he nodded, and we began to trudge our way back to the house. “Shit, that’s cold!” I exclaimed as I slammed the door behind us and locked it, for whatever good it would do. Yes, it appeared we were being herded like cattle into this house, I considered as I soaked in the blessed heat of this place, listening to what had become a howling blizzard outside. But if it was my time to go, at least I’d go warm.

“So what now?” Eric asked, making no move to remove his coat in case we had to make another dash for freedom. I decided that was a good idea, although I had to unzip mine due to the intense warmth in this place, surprised at how much hotter it seemed than when we’d been here earlier. “Grab a cozy chair and wait for this wacko or wackos to show themselves?”

“Let’s look around,” I suggested, “make sure we’re alone, at least for now anyway. And who knows? Maybe whoever this guardian is left something behind we can use to contact the outside world, or at least defend ourselves with.” All very valid reasons, I told myself, but the truth was I was burning with curiosity to explore what appeared to be a beautiful house, even if it ended up being a death trap.

“Should we split up?” he suggested, “we could cover more ground more quickly that way.”

I smirked. “Yeah, because that always works so well in the movies. Rule one for tonight – we stick together at all times.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “What about, you know, going to the bathroom and stuff?”

“Hmm ... I forgot about that,” I said, blushing slightly. “Well, we’ll see how things go.” I knew it was totally the wrong moment for this sort of thinking, but just then the image of me standing in the bathroom with him as he did his business, his cock in his hand, filled my head, accompanied by a spate of sinful questions – was it as big as his father’s? What about girth? If it was too bulky, I might not be able to cram it all in my pussy...

“Okay,” he said rather quickly, breaking me out of my erotic imaginings. I’d expected him to put up more of a fight about that, but maybe it was just the seriousness of the situation that was making him more agreeable, I concluded as he held out his hand to me. “And maybe it would be a good idea for us to hold hands, at least until we’ve checked the place over.”

I smiled at this suggestion, still tingly from my musings. I hadn’t held his hand since he was a little boy, and even though it was fear motivating him right now I still saw it as a big step forward in my plans to get as close as a mother could get to her son. If we made it through the night, that is. “Alright, let’s go.”

We decided to start up on the third floor and work our way down. As it turned out most of the rooms on this level turned out to be bedrooms, a pattern repeated on the second floor. It must have been an inn or something like that at one point, and whoever lives here now must have a huge family, noting how many of the rooms were done up for Christmas with a variety of decorations obviously created by the hands of children.

And each of them contained a small Christmas tree, each with a different theme – such as a room with a pink tree decked out with red trim and illuminated crimson glass hearts, to another, which had a tree done up with various kinds of sports ornamentation and a light-up football on top, feeling a subtle but sharp pang of envy that these people, whoever they were, had everything I’d been denied.

But despite that, this was the most charming, cozy house I’d ever seen; I considered idly as we inspected a large room on the second floor, my fears beginning to wane as I absorbed the holiday cheer around me. I assumed this was the master bedroom, for it was quite larger than the others with a beyond-king-sized bed wrapped in opulent red silken sheets that dominated the room, large heavy curtains over wide windows, even its own bathroom and fireplace. But we found no trace of anyone else, nor anything that might be useful to us, so we headed back downstairs.